


Ice Cream vs. Felony: Hunter Edition

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, F/M, Humor, Reader Insert, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, bad day, golden girls quote, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: The reader has a really bad day, much to the amusement of the Winchesters.





	Ice Cream vs. Felony: Hunter Edition

Hunting with the Winchesters was usually a good time. Before I met them life was okay, but it was boring. Sure, before them I didn’t almost die every other month, and I can assure you that if I had the option to not have to deal with angels (with the exception of Cas, of course) then I wouldn’t. But overall, it wasn’t bad.

Except for when they ganged up on me.

Don’t get me wrong, when it happens to anyone else, it’s hilarious. Sam is usually the quieter of the two, but once Dean gets him started he’s relentless. I have seen them verbally massacre Garth, irritate Cas to the point where he just poofed to…well, wherever it was he went, and push Jody to the point where she threatened to arrest them. They rarely turned their sights on me, but when they did…well, it was rough. If anything could have gone wrong during this hunt, it did and then some.

And they turned every single thing into an opportunity to make fun of me.

* * *

“Y/N, do you want me to carry your bag for you? I know it’s been hard to keep a grip on anything today, I don’t mind helping you out.”

I glared at Dean, “No, I don’t need you to carry it for me, I’m fi-” As if to add insult to injury, I tripped over my own feet as I entered the hotel room and nearly fell. The bag I was carrying lost the battle with gravity and fell to the ground. The contents spilled across the floor, but at least I was inside. I knelt to gather my things and heard Dean and Sam trying to contain their laughter. Without looking, I snapped, “What? What now?”

Sam, his voice strained from the effort of holding it together, was the one to answer, “It’s just…umm…you might want to keep a pair of pants out of that bag. It seems like the ones you are wearing are also having a hard time keeping a grip on everything.”

I jerked my head around to glare at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean was shaking his head at Sam, his lip in a pout, but unfortunately for Sam he missed the cue to keep his mouth shut. “Your pants…ummm…they’re ripped.”

I groaned as I threw my bag on the bed and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, I had split the seat of my pants, and my entire ass was hanging out. “Balls,” I muttered. These were my favorite pants. I grabbed a new pair of jeans from my bag, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind me.

Today had been awful. I should have known the moment I woke up that I should have just let the guys go and take care of what would normally be a simple salt and burn. But the bunker felt stuffier than usual, and I was antsier than normal, so I jumped at the chance to get on the road.

The gas station incident should have been the first hint. I need it to be known that I enjoy gas station junk food, and I’m pretty sure my hips reflect that. However, I regret nothing. There is nothing better than a giant Slushee and a thing of nachos. The second thing you need to know is that we eat in the Impala all the time. We practically live out of the thing, so obviously my first thought when I gathered my quite possibly life shortening snacks was that I would settle into the backseat with my feet propped up while I listened to my favorite true crime podcast and vegged out with my delicious purchases.

Dean didn’t even give me a passing glance as I opened the door and set my stuff on the bench seat. The first mistake I made was putting the Slushee on the roof of the car and not paying attention to how close to the edge it was. The second mistake I made was not noticing where Sam was, or the fact that he was getting ready to shut his door as he folded his giant frame into the front seat. Just as I bent down to arrange my stuff Sam slammed his door shut, and the movement was just enough to topple the Slushee from the roof and down my back. In my haste to get away from the sudden coldness that was traveling down my shirt, I somehow managed to fling the rest of the Slushee into the backseat of the car, and my delicious, icy treat spilled across the leather. As I straightened up slowly, my eyes wide, I could feel Sam’s eyes on me as I took in the scene in front of me.

I think at this point, it is important to note that we have had far worse things in that backseat. We’ve bled on it, had dead bodies back there, and, on multiple occasions, all three of us have done unspeakable things to other people on it. In short, Baby has seen some shit. So in my opinion, Dean’s reaction was a little unwarranted. The moment he heard my shrill scream, he turned to look. By the time I had fully straightened up and looked at him over the roof, he was livid. Not the yelling kind of livid either, but the ‘silent but deadly’, shark eyed stare of someone planning my demise kind of livid.

“Dean, I am so sorry-”

“Stop. Don’t say another word. Just…go change your shirt.” I looked between Dean and the open door, but he stopped me before I could say anything, “Just go.”

I grabbed my bag, which miraculously had escaped the Slushee baptism, and trudged inside. By the time I’d cleaned off as well as I could and changed my shirt, Dean was back in the driver’s seat and the back was clear of my sugary beverage. I almost asked him where my snacks were when I caught Sam’s eye and he barely shook his head no. Message received.

After that, I really thought the day couldn’t get any worse. We would take care of the ghost, maybe I’d be the one to vanquish it in some badass way and get back in Dean’s good graces, and then Dean would be in a better mood. Problem number one with that assumption: Despite changing my shirt, I couldn’t reach all all of the Slushee and had been uncomfortable the rest of the day. I was sticky and irritated, and because the universe wasn’t done screwing with me yet, I had been attacked by a number of yellow jackets that were apparently attracted to the sweet remains of my drink. This attack had elicited another shriek from me, and Sam and Dean just stood and laughed as I ran, flailing and yelling, into the house that we were supposed to be quietly entering so that we could take care of the ghost.

Problem number two with that assumption: That I would need to do something great to get back in Dean’s good graces. I was wrong in assuming that I would actively have to try, because apparently just seeing me fail was enough to put him in a better mood. When he and Sam finally followed me into the house to find me out of breath and nursing at least two yellow jacket stings, he had been wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh man, I needed that. I absolutely needed that.” He had tossed me my gun, one of his old sawed offs, which I immediately dropped, the clatter of it echoing through the dingy hallway. Dean choked back a laugh and motioned for me to follow him as Sam went the other way. We had been scouting the house for several minutes in silence before he spoke again, “You alright?”

I looked at him with a scowl, “Yes. I’m just dandy.”

Dean looked at me, a ghost of a smile on that stupid, handsome face, “It’s just…you seem a little off today.”

“I am fine. Quit asking.”

“Are you sure? Because you aren’t really acting like yourself…”

I spun around to look at him, “Dammit, Dean, get out of my ass! There’s nothing-”

“Duck!”

I glared at him, my patience totally gone, “Seriously, Dean, I’m really done-” I’m interrupted again as he swings his shotgun up and I drop to the floor, muttering obscenities as both knees hit the hardwood, hard. I look up at Dean and he grins down at me.

“Sorry, Y/N, didn’t think you’d want to end up being the next victim. We’ve gotta find what that damn thing is attached to.”

“Y/N! Dean! I found something!” Dean helped me up out of the floor and I dusted off my jeans. I could already feel bruises forming on my knees as we walked towards Sam’s voice. We found him sitting at the kitchen table, a book spread out in front of him.

Dean sat down opposite of him and crossed his arms, “What’d you find?”

Sam spun it around so that it faced Dean, while I leaned against the door frame, silent and still in a bad mood. “It’s a journal. I don’t think we’re looking for a something. We’re looking for the actual bones. According to this, Josiah is buried somewhere on the property.”

I stood away from the door and grinned, “Great, I’ll go look for the grave, you guys keep an eye out here! I’ll be right back.” Dean laughed and I looked back at him, my eyes narrowed, “And what exactly is so funny?”

Dean turned to face me, “Are you seriously asking me that right now? You aren’t going out there alone, not after all your little incidents today. Nope. You’re gonna stay here with me, and Sammy will go look for the bones.”

Sam sighed, “Come on, I think Y/N can handle it.”

Dean’s laughter died off as he glared at Sam, “I said no, Sam. Does that journal mention where he might be?”

Sam nodded, “The general area, yea.”

Dean smiled, satisfied, “Great, you better get a move on then.” Sam groaned, grabbed his shotgun and the Impala keys, and stomped off. Dean looked back at me, “Think you can keep that gun in your hands long enough to keep the ghost busy?”

“Yes, Dean, I can.” I turned to leave the room and I heard Dean’s chair scrape the floor as he stood to follow me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I spun around angrily, “Away from _you_.” I stormed off and made my way upstairs and away from Dean. He had no right to tell me what to do, like he was my father. I had made it most of the way down the hall when I felt a hand grab my elbow as if to stop me. “Dean, I swear to God, if you do not leave me alone-” I spun around to finish my verbal assault and was stopped by the pale, dead face of Josiah McElroy, the man who had been known for killing his wife then himself in a fit of jealous rage. I raised my shotgun but was too slow and he knocked it out of my hand. I stumbled backwards and landed flat on my ass. “Shit!” I looked around for anything that would work against the spirit in front of me and groaned when my back hit the wall at the end of the hallway. “Shit!” Just as Josiah’s hand came towards my throat and I crossed my arms in front of me in a futile attempt to defend myself, a shotgun blast echoed in the small area and I looked up to see Dean still holding the gun up, a small wisp of smoke curling up from the end.

“You can hold onto your gun just fine, huh?” I glared at him as I slowly stood and brushed off my jeans.

“Shut up.” He handed me my sawed off and grinned. That smug bastard. Just then I saw Josiah appear behind Dean, “Dean, DUCK!” I swung the gun up and Dean ducked to the side just in time for me to fill Josiah up with rock salt. I smirked, “You’re welcome.”

Dean stood carefully, “I’m just glad you remembered how to hold on to a gun.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’ve not been that bad today.”

Dean laughed sarcastically, “Oh, you’ve been a poster child for proper gun control all day! Not to mention a perfect example of grace and charm. As a matter of fact, do you wanna drive the Impala after this is all said and done? Because I am sure nothing bad could come out of that.”

“Listen here, smart ass, I said I was sorry about the car, and you staring at me all the time is not helping anything-” Dean had moved closer to me as we were bickering and I was interrupted by him shoving me to the side as he let off another round into Josiah.

“I’m not staring at you! I’m making sure you don’t get any of us killed. It seems like today that involves keeping my eye on you, why can’t you just listen?”  

“Because you’re bossy and annoying and I just really want to punch you in the face today, okay?”  
  
“Listen, sweetheart-” I had been walking away, but as soon as he said it, I felt my blood boil.

I whipped around and glared at him, “Don’t you _dare_ call me sweetheart. We both know that you only call women sweetheart when you’re trying to be condescending and I swear to God if you pull that shit on me, I will punch you in the damn throat, Winchester. In. The. Throat.” I punctuated each word with a sharp jab to his chest, and got angrier when all I could think about was how well muscled he was. I took a step backwards to put space between us, “Just leave me alone, okay? Let’s just get this done and over with.”

“Y/N…”

I shook my head no and took another step back, “Nope, we’re done here. I’m not speaking to you for at least another hour. Done.”

“But you might want to-”

“I said no, Dean!” I should have let him finish because the moment I tried to take another step back, my foot found nothing by empty space and I had exactly three seconds to comprehend what was about to happen. Somehow, and as I sit in the bathroom remembering the chain of events and taking inventory of all my stings, scrapes, and bruises I am incredibly surprised by this, I managed to throw my weight enough that I fell forward instead of backwards down the stairs. I slid halfway down the rough wooden staircase before I was able to stop my downward descent and I sat in shock as I tried to catch my breath. Dean stopped at the head of the steps, his eyes wide, then began laughing when he realized I was okay.

“Oh shit,  Y/N, are you alright?” He managed between wheezing laughs, his hands on his knees.

“Other than me almost breaking my damn neck, I am freaking peachy.” I stood carefully, and gingerly walked down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside,” I practically shouted, “Away from this ghost and away from you.” I heard Dean chuckle.

“What about the yellow jackets?” I froze as I contemplated what was worse, having to deal with what was inside of the house or the literal sting of defeat if I went outside. Before I could answer, Sam threw the door open and caught me in the shoulder. I stumbled backwards and for the third time in five minutes, landed on my ass. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sam look as scared as he did in the moment his eyes met mine.

“Oh my God, Y/N…I’m….are you okay? I’m sorry!” He tried to help me up and I waved him off angrily.

“Give me the car keys.”

“But we’re good-”

“Give. Me. The. Keys.” He slowly handed them to me and I stormed out of the house, running past the few remaining yellowjackets, then threw myself into the backseat of the Impala after I started it so that I would have the air conditioning.

Sam and Dean slowly approached the car and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at either of them. Both doors creaked open slowly, and I could hear the suspension groan as both men gently lowered their body weight onto the bench seat. There was silence for a moment before Dean decided to speak, “Are you okay?”

I responded without opening my eyes, “Just drive,” then rolled over and waited for the lull of the tires against pavement to put me to sleep. 

 

I thought getting to the motel would be the end of it, but now I found myself in the bathroom, my favorite jeans ripped beyond repair and in the floor, and looking at all the bruises that had begun to form after my various mishaps. I pulled my newer jeans on and groaned at the effort it took to button them. Skinny jeans and diner food were not friends. I gathered my ruined pants and made my way out of the bathroom. My heart was set on laying down and I was on my way to do just that when I heard Dean yell.

“Y/N, catch!” But I didn’t catch whatever he threw because my hands were full, and the sound of a full can of beer hitting the linoleum floor and then exploding was the last thing I heard before I went full on rage mode.

“Are you _KIDDING ME_?? I JUST changed my clothes, and all I wanted was a nap. ALL I WANTED WAS PEACE AND QUIET FOR AN HOUR. ONE HOUR. Why would you even think throwing that at me was a good idea?? Did you want something else to laugh at today?? Well, LAUGH AT THIS.” I grabbed the Impala keys and stormed towards the door.

“Hey! You can’t just take my car-” I flipped Dean off over my shoulder and flung the door open.

“I can and I will.”

**“Where are you going?”**

**“To get ice cream. Or commit a felony. I’ll decide in the car.”** I slammed the door shut as I left both Winchesters looking at each other in confusion.

* * *

I decided while I was driving that I’d much rather have ice cream than commit a felony so I stopped at the little mom and pop ice cream shop I’d seen on our way in. While I sat and enjoyed my ice cream cone as I watched some little kids play in the small stream that flowed next to the parking lot, my phone kept going off. I didn’t look at it though, I knew who it was.

Despite my aggravation with Dean, I was mostly irritated with the fact that I couldn’t stay mad at him. I had to admit, had any of these things happened to Dean or Sam, I would have laughed just as hard as they did…and if I was being honest with myself, I’m just as relentless when it comes to teasing as both of them were. If I were being really honest with myself, I was just embarrassed that Dean had seen me fail multiple times in quick succession. My phone went off again and I sighed. Dean was probably freaking out over the Impala being gone. I jumped down from the table I was sitting on and slid into the driver’s seat. I hadn’t made it very far from the motel, so it only took a few minutes to pull up in front of the room. I shut the car off and sat in silence for a moment, unsure of how to talk to either Winchester after my little outburst.

I finally got out and slowly opened the motel door. Sam was gone, but Dean was sitting at the kitchenette table, spinning his phone around anxiously. As soon as the door clicked shut, he turned to see who it was and stood up quickly when he realized it was me.

“The Impala is fine and parked exactly where you left her, if that’s what you were worried about.” I tossed the keys to him and cringed inwardly. That wasn’t exactly an apology for my previous behavior, but I can’t say that I’ve ever prided myself for my social skills.

“That’s not what I was calling about.” He shoved the keys in his pocket and kept looking at me.

“Then what did you want?”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, “You were upset, you shouldn’t just storm off like that when you’re mad.”

I snorted, “Dean, you do that all the time! You are probably the angstiest person I know. Storming off angrily and driving away towards the sunset in the Impala is like your signature move.” He had moved closer to me as I rambled and I suddenly found myself looking up at him. His jawline looked like it could have been chiseled from marble. I made a mental note to thank Chuck for that later.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locked with mine, “I do, but _you_ don’t. You stay and talk about your feelings, not storm off. That’s why I like you, you don’t just bottle all that shit up and let it eat at you.”

I swallowed thickly, “You like me, Winchester?” I tried to sound cool, but my voice betrayed me and came out an octave higher than I meant for it to.

He smiled slightly, “I mean, you’re okay I guess.” I felt his hand brush hair behind my ear and I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. “I’m sorry we picked on you so much earlier. Next time you fall down the stairs or drop your gun five times in a row, I promise I’ll only laugh on the inside.”

I rolled my eyes, “That is the worst apology-” Dean’s lips against mine stopped my snarky remark and I closed my eyes, relishing how he felt. He was warm and soft, and smelled like gun oil and leather. He pulled away slowly and I sighed in disappointment.

“How was that for an apology?”

I nodded and made my best ‘moderately impressed’ face, “Ehhh, I think you could probably try a little harder. You did make fun of me a lot today.” Dean picked me up as he moved towards the bed and threw me down on the soft mattress.

“Alright, well, I guess I better work on my apologies, huh?”

I laughed, “I think this might be a good start.” 

* * *


End file.
